


I'm Not What I Appear To Be

by SittingOnACornflake



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Getting Together, Haunted House, M/M, McLennon Big Bang 2020, angel!paul, basically angels and dullahans work together to help humans, dullahan!john, i don't know how i'm gonna post everything before due date, i have no clue what i'm doing, monster au, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingOnACornflake/pseuds/SittingOnACornflake
Summary: Paul (an Angel) and John (a Dullahan) are sent to a haunted house. Fluff and shenanigans ensue.Based on Mothbin's art and written for the McLennon BB!
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 69
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on MothBins' lovely art, that you can find [here!](https://mothtrrash.tumblr.com/post/621273273972490240/so-uh-im-joining-mclennonbb-cause-why-not)
> 
> I have no knowlegde at aLL about monster AUs so I did my best! In case you're like me and don't know Dullahans, they're also called Headless Horsemen and they can either be evil or good. Legend has it that a human dies every time they go down from their horse. They have magical powers too.

Paul had just gotten out of his taxi when his phone buzzed. The short text he’d just received came from an unknown number, but he instantly knew who the sender was.

**U already there?**

_Yes._

**Coming in a few.**

_Okay._

He shrugged, much more for himself than for everyone else. He was alone; the taxi driver had hurried away as soon as the money had been received. Since the mansion that stood in front of him was situated on top of a hill, the nearest houses were down in the valley. The wind blew with force and made the pines planted around the house swing.

_The perfect setting for a haunted house_ , he thought.

He seized the handle of his bag and climbed the few steps that separated him from the porch. The wooden planks creaked under his feet. He was gripping the handle, ready to go in, when a voice made him turn around.

“Exploring the place without your partner, aren't you? Not considerate of you, Macca.”

“John,” Paul simply said in reply, turning around to greet him.

His 'partner', since partners they were, was sat on a dark horse that looked particularly exhausted. John had auburn hair arranged in a mop top. This hairstyle indicated to outsiders that he was employed by the same organization as Paul. Both of them took care of humans. Both of them had chosen to dedicate their existences to resolving the problems these little creatures never ceased to encounter or create.

“Staring at me?” John smirked.

Paul tore his eyes away from John's aquiline nose and overall perfect non-human face.

“Do you ever say a proper sentence?” he asked.

“T'was one,” was the clearly unbothered answer he received.

Paul exhaled loudly but couldn’t help but smile. He settled his bag under the awning and climbed down the stairs. John, still sat on his horse, followed him wordlessly as they circled the mansion. When they reached the stables, John lifted an eyebrow and their eyes met.

“On the count of three?”

Paul hummed in approval.

John squirmed on his saddle as he prepared himself to get down and Paul felt a shift in the energy that emanated from him. It had been positive before, radiant even, but now it was slowly reaching the opposite pole. It culminated as John's left feet touched the ground for the first time that day. The powerful discharge went out of him, ready to kill the first human it would encounter. Paul extended his wings just in time to meet the deathly shoot. As he always did, he countered it with love and acceptation, merely shivering in the process.

“Thanks, Angel,” John said casually, taking his horse's reins and guiding the creature in the stables.

“You’re welcome, Dullahan.”

Paul shivered one more time before folding his wings again behind his back. Deep inside, he couldn’t help but pity the headless horsemen like John. They had this curse that made them kill a human every time they wanted to go down from their horse. Only Angels could save the human's life – and the Angel had to be there when it happened. This at least was a reason for Paul to rejoice about being here.

“So,” John said enthusiastically. “What are we here for?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Paul already bicker like an old couple because I feel like it.

“What do you mean, 'what are we here for'?” Paul repeated.

John eyed him curiously. Paul glanced at him in the same fashion, and for some reason it made him chuckle. “Just what I said,” he smiled.

“You're on a mission and you don't have read the note before coming?”

“Was on me horse. Took it out to read it but the wind made it fly away.”

“That’s not likel-”

“Macca, please. If you keep insisting I’m gonna have to assume you haven’t read it either.”

Paul didn’t feel attacked. He was an _Angel_ , and as such, he knew he was perfect, or as perfect as anyone could be when embodied on Earth. He’d never had qualms about that in the decades he’d spent here, and he was not going to start today. Instead of rebelling against the accusation, his attention was drawn to a little word instead.

“Macca?” he repeated.

“Short for you last name, Angel. 'm tryna not waste my time.”

_After all,_ Paul thought as they left the stables and made their way back to the front of the house, slowly climbing the steps against the wind that seemed to come _from_ the house, as if trying to repel them, _after all it fits with John’s personality as a Dullahan. He’s always trying to make as less efforts as possible. Dullahans, they're easily bored, they can become restless ..._

His musings were interrupted by a hand waving in front of his face.

“Stop overthinking everything and spill it out,” John instructed.

Paul sighed, an action he tended to do a lot when he was around John – and he'd already teamed with the Dullahan twice.

“There’s nothing special about this case,” he said with his ever-patient voice. “There have been some complaints from the owners of this house. They say it’s haunted. So it's as usual, really.”

At that, John quirked up an eyebrow. “What’s usual?”

“Stop teasing.”

“It’s just lovely to irk up an angel.”

“I’m not irked up.”

John merely stared at Paul, cocking his head to the side.

“Fine,” Paul huffed. “I’m meant to sense the spirits, find what they want. _Usual_ stuff, you know. And you're meant to get us rid of it, do whatever you _usually_ do in this kind of situation.”

“Alright.”

It surprised Paul that John wouldn’t protest or tease any further, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he grabbed his bag on the floor and reached for the door.

“So,” he offered. “Shall we get in?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They enter the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night I dreamed that I went in that haunted house with Paul. You don't know how much I love dreaming.
> 
> Posting two chapters in a row because they're so short :)

Paul had not even pushed on the handle when it opened widely, seemingly all by itself.

“Spooky,” John commented with the ironical tone he never seemed to quit.

They both walked a few steps in. The wind shut the door behind them, making the walls tremble. They stopped in the middle of the hall.

“How long have they been gone?” John asked, taking in the sight of the wide, rather empty but most of all rather dusty hall.

“The owners? About a year, I think. They only contacted the Council a month ago,” Paul explained.

“Could as well have been unoccupied for decades,” John drawled.

He walked to a cracked mirror and fixed his hair. Then he took glasses out of his inside pocket and put them on the tip of his nose before bending over a drawer.

Paul spun on his heels, taking in as many details as he could, from the spider webs to the heavy coat of dust on the floor tiles. The creak of an ancient music box made him turn towards John again.

“Don’t take anything!” he warned his partner.

“God, I had forgotten Angels were so dull,” John complained, closing the lid of the box and shutting the creepy tune.

“And I had forgotten Dullahans cursed so much. How you and your peers manage to steal and curse all the time and still be on the good side is beyond me,” Paul retorted.

It truly was something he had trouble understanding, but he was actually surprised when John answered with honesty.

“We choose to be on the right side. It's not as easy as it is for you, we're not born for some side or another.”

Paul hummed, not willing in the slightest to diminish his colleague’s merit.

“And I’ll remind you that some Dullahans still choose to be _bad_ , as you’d say,” John went on. He then added, before Paul had time to answer, “So. You feel anything about the place?”

Paul took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The smell of dust filled his nostrils, almost making him sneeze. He half unfolded his wings without realizing it, opening his heart and mind to every conscious being that was around.

John was there. Spiders were there. Mice, birds, a bunch of various insects too. There was a squirrel in the attic.

“So?” John repeated.

Paul opened his eyes.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” John asked. This time, Paul couldn’t spot an ounce of teasing in his voice.

“I don't get any vibe from this house. There's no spirit, no ghost. None I can sense, at least. There's nothing weird here, and that's ...”

“Weird,” John completed.

Paul nodded. Both of them remained silent for a few minutes. Paul kept trying to communicate with any spirit that might inhabit the house while John lurked around, opening every cupboard, drawer and secret hideout he could find (and he seemed to have a gift for that). When John removed a tile from the floor and took out a stash of golden coins, Paul decided to call it a day.

“We’d better stop for now and take our things upstairs,” he said.

John put some coins in his pocket before smirking back at him. “ _I_ wasn’t doing anything, but of course. I'm sure my room upstairs will have its share of treasures.”

Paul shrugged, merely reminding him he wasn’t to take anything with him when they left.

As they climbed up the stairs, he could have sworn he heard John mutter something resembling “We’ll see”. The staircase led them to a wide corridor with closed doors on each side. Paul settled for the first door on his right, which belonged to a child – drawings hung on the door, all signed by the name “Jojo” on the bottom right corner. John went all the way through the corridor before coming back and choosing a room two doors away from Paul.

“See you, Angel!” he shouted before slamming the door behind him.

Paul sighed again, but couldn’t help but smile as he did so. The Dullahan _was_ tiring, but there was also something endearing about him. After all, Paul was an Angel – which meant he couldn’t help but love every being that crossed his path.


	4. John's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV, Author dislikes summaries.

The first time John had seen Paul was years ago. All Angels and Dullahans didn’t know one another, but those who worked for the Council usually did, even if it was only in passing. They were asked to team up more often than not.

As things were, John had already worked with Paul twice. In the meantime, and aside from his solo missions, he'd also teamed up with various other Angels, but none of them had stood out to him as much as Paul.

Paul really was something else. John had known it from the beginning, and to say he'd been enthusiastic at the idea of working with him again would have been an understatement. A _huge_ one.

What he’d first noticed about Paul were his looks, of course. Paul had this angelic face with slightly chubby cheeks. He had hazel eyes and dark hair. He had a perfectly framed body …

To be completely honest, John had been a bit exasperated by Paul's sheer perfectness in the beginning. Because what use was there for an _Angel_ , a creature that was all spirit and brains and sentiments, to have a body like this one? For a second, it had seemed a horrible waste. Then Paul, that Paul from years ago, had smiled, extended his wings – white, feathered, soft – and spoken to him, and John had realised that this Angel wasn’t like any other. Whereas most Angels weren’t comfortable inhabiting their human bodies, Paul was natural in his. There was not a hint of awkwardness as he'd walked towards John and shaken his hand human-style.

_“Hi love. My name's Paul, I'm an Angel, though I’m sure you know that already. Have you been waiting for long?”_

Like all Angels John had met, Paul was calm, precise and confident. He knew what he had to do and did it without delay or compromise. He was honest and righteous. He liked everyone. His purpose in life, in this mid-human life he'd chosen, was to help and love people. That much was obvious to anyone who met any Angel in the street and asked them what time it was.

But there also were other things about Paul that John hadn’t ever spotted in any other Angel. Paul seemed more connected to human emotions than the rest of his kin. Maybe it was a conscious choice made to be of more help to them, but John couldn’t swear anything. He just knew Paul was cranky at times, that listening to music sent him in awe, that he enjoyed eating when the food was good and that John had the power to upset him, if only the tiniest bit. John relished these moments and made them happen as much as he could. Before meeting Paul, John had thought Angels didn’t have an individuality, that they couldn’t think of their own. Paul had proved him otherwise. When they'd been sent in human bodies to help humans, Angels had also inherited hearts and minds.

Paul's heart and mind were already half awake.

What John had planned, as the wicked Dullahan he was, was only to wake them once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm So Tired is the one and only song blasting in my head right now but I still wanted to post this, so I'll just wish you a good night now (or morning. You know.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The deadline to post our BB works has been postponed to October 30th and I'm SO RELIEVED, you don't even know.

Paul didn’t get any sleep that night.

It wasn’t like his body needed it, anyway. He could sleep if bored or tired, but his body had to rest much less often than regular humans.

He spent the night sat on the floor of his latest bedroom. With his crossed-legs posture, his relaxed face and his wide wings absolutely still around him, it looked like he was meditating. Instead of that, he'd been reaching out with his mind for any consciousness that might hover around. The task wasn’t straining nor tiring. If anything, it was natural. Opening his mind, relaxing and floating downstream was his disposition as an Angel. Listening to the sounds other consciousnesses made had always proved itself to be his most effective way of helping them.

Usually, it only took him a couple of hours at most. It wasn’t the case that night.

When the sun appeared on the horizon, Paul opened his eyes, folded his wings behind his back and exited the room swiftly.

“John? I need to talk to you!”

No sound came from John's room. _That_ was surprising. Now, during the night Paul hadn’t listened intently to the Dullahan's consciousness, but he had snatched enough echoes to know he definitely was in there. He pounded on the door again.

“John!”

This time, a low groan could be heard. Paul took it as his clue to get in.

“For God's sake, Angel. You're insane. Some people need ta sleep, y'know that?”

It took Paul a few seconds to understand the grumbled words. John was still in bed, head hidden under a pillow and body tangled in sheets.

“Humanoid creatures only sleep at night,” Paul contradicted him.

“In my case, Angel, night extends from whatever the time I go to bed up to noon,” John groaned.

“But the sun is already up,” Paul insisted.

“Paul, please. I'm a Dullahan, I need sleep. Trust me on that one.”

“Sorry.”

Paul was about to leave the room when John turned around, getting his head out from under the pillow. His hair was more ruffled than Paul had ever seen, his eyes barely open, and the Angel felt a rush of love and sorrow towards the Dullahan he'd just woken up.

“What did you want to tell me, then?” John drawled, resting his head on the pillow.

He didn’t sound that much angry anymore and Paul decided to answer.

“The mansion.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been working on it all night and I don't think it’s haunted.”

“Okay ... What are we gonna do about that?” John asked as he stretched his arms over his head.

“I’m going in town to talk to the Council about it,” Paul answered. “They’ll tell us what to do.”

John nodded before pulling the sheets to his face. Paul remained silent a couple of minutes, observing John’s hidden form as he listened to his breathing. He stayed there until he was sure John had fallen asleep and then left the room, not making any more noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post chapter 6 tomorrow :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul goes to the Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about posting this all day, and then forgot because of a latin translation. Anyway, here is it!

When Paul entered the Council building, Angels, Dullahans, Pixies and a lot of other creatures were rushing about, going from one workspace to another, sharing information and basically working, but he paid them no mind. The one Angel he needed to see was on the thirteenth floor. That's where he headed, squeezing himself and his wings in an elevator already crowded with two Dullahans. When they left on the seventh floor, they gave him a weird look – curious, and almost suspicious. It didn’t bother him. All Dullahans acted this way, although Paul wasn’t quite sure if they displayed this behaviour around all Angels or just around him. He’d noticed John observed him all the time when he thought Paul wasn’t paying attention, but again: Paul wasn’t thinking about John or any Dullahan now, he was focused on his current task. He had to talk to his superior.

“Hi Pete,” Paul greeted the Angel who worked as Brian’s secretary. He leaned against his desk and smiled. “Is Brian here?”

“Hi Paul. He's busy at the moment but it shouldn’t be longer than six minutes now. You can sit over here if you want,” the Angel said in his somewhat mechanical tone, a tone Paul had long ago given up on trying to master himself. He was an Angel, but there were things he couldn’t do. Like what Pete was doing now – not caring about anything.

Shaking off his thoughts, Paul thanked the other Angel and sat on one of the chairs. He was the only one in the waiting room. He had the time to blink twice before the peaceful silence was disturbed by a loud noise. It took him a second to realize it was coming from his own pocket – his phone was ringing. The song – one Paul had never heard in all the years he’d spent on Earth – resembled one of those tunes that play in carousels. A name flashed through Paul’s mind. _John._

“How did he even-” Paul began. He stopped short when he saw the look Pete was giving him. Disbelief was written on the other’s face and Paul was sure that he was close to putting his hands against his ears. Paul fumbled in his pockets and finally found his phone.

A photo of John was on the screen, just below the words “incoming call”. Paul had never taken that photo. John had a smug face and was holding a piece of paper with “surprise” written on it.

“John, I’m serious, what is your prob-” Paul began before being abruptly cut off.

“Listen Angel, I've got no time for this!” John's panicked voice shrieked in Paul’s ear, making him jump. “Something weird happened in here and it's getting really creepy. You'd better come back flying on these wings of yours cause I ain’t dealing with it on my own.”

“Wait, John, tell me what happened exactly,” Paul asked to no avail.

“I’ll tell you when you get there. Please hurry,” John pleaded.

“But ...”

John hung up and Paul fell silent. Lifting his head, he noticed Pete staring at him and gave him a tight smile.

“Professional call,” he explained. “A Dullahan.”

“Oh, of course,” the Angel answered as if it made everything clear. With the smallest shrug, he went back to his papers without paying attention to Paul anymore.

This was what prompted Paul to make up his mind in favour of John. Dullahans weren’t exactly made fun of among Angels – who lacked sense of humour, as Paul himself acknowledged with regret – but they tended to be looked down upon. Most Angels considered they didn’t belong in the Council because, just like humans, they had to strive to overcome their instincts and to not yield to temptations. Paul had worked with Dullahans enough to know the analysis was right – hadn’t John just stolen things in front of him the night before? – but in his opinion it only made Dullahans worthier of respect. In a way, they even belonged in the Council more than Angels did. They could help humans because they'd been through the same ordeals on their path to Good, although Paul would never have dared express these convictions in public.

So, even if he was positively sure that he hadn't felt anything in the mansion, and therefore that there wasn’t anything there, he still decided to trust John.

“Actually,” he said, rising onto his feet, “I’ll talk to Brian another time. It's not that much urgent. Thanks, Pete!”

“But Paul, Brian will be out of his office in fifty-two seconds!” the Angel said, but no one was there to listen to him.

Paul was already gone, and this time he took the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul is looking for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is twice as long as the others, don't ask me what happened!

John's door was already open. Paul burst in, ready to confront any spirit that was there or, if needed, even ready to comfort a distraught John. He encountered none of this. John's room was empty, with the sheets hanging from the bed and only half an inch from the wooden (and dusty) floor.

“John?”

He received no answer. He checked his own room before heading back downstairs.

“John?” he called again once he was in the hall.

Maybe John had been serious when he'd said he wouldn’t wait there. Maybe he was gone. Paul felt a pang of sorrow and slight (but only slight) regret at that thought. He had half in mind to go to the stables and see if John’s horse was gone too, but called his colleague’s name one last time. He almost started when another voice said his name.

“Macca? I'm in the living room.”

Relief flooded through Paul's veins. After all, the mission couldn’t succeed if John wasn’t there. As an Angel, Paul had the ability of communicating with the spirit and of setting it at peace, but only John could set it free. It was crucial that John stayed with him.

The living room was much like when they'd visited it the night before. An impressive collection of portraits hung on the walls, covering every space available. A large chimney stood on the left, facing the old windows which, dirty as they were, still allowed a glimpse of the bad weather outside. Two worn-out, if majestic couches circled a round rug set in the exact middle of the room. The only unusual thing in all this was John.

The Dullahan was sprawled out on the rug, resting on one elbow, head hanging slightly as if about to fall on the ground. Now _this_ was anticlimactic.

When Paul came in and stopped dead in his track on the threshold, John glanced briefly at him.

“Took yer time,” he quipped.

“It doesn’t seem like it bothered you that much,” Paul retorted.

“Macca, dear. It took you an hour to come back. Did you expect me to shriek for the whole time, never going down from my stool?”

“It doesn’t mean you have to be so ... relaxed,” Paul said, still staring in disbelief at the Dullahan lounging on the rug. “What are you even doing, playing a video game?”

“Correct,” John said, clicking on the screen and resuming his playing.

Paul was grateful to be an Angel. If he hadn’t been helped by the thought that he was _unable_ to get angry, he'd definitely have lost his temper by then. Instead, he breathed in deeply and ran a hand along his right wing, enjoying the softness of the feathers under his fingers.

“Maybe we could talk about what happened while I was away, then,” he suggested, tone carefully controlled, almost as robotic as Pete’s had been back at the Council.

John frowned and glanced at him again before putting his phone aside.

“If you insist.”

As he said that, John rolled on his back and brought his head back against his neck, preventing it from falling. He yawned and stretched his arms lazily.

“Well?” Paul said.

“Oh, right. I was in the hall, looking at me face in the mirror. Couldn’t fall back asleep after you'd left. Problem is I wasn’t alone in the mirror.”

“You saw someone beside you, then?” Paul asked, very interested.

“Yeah. But they were _in_ the mirror. When I turned around I was alone. When I looked back at the reflection, they waved at me.”

“And then?”

“Well, I ran away and called you, Macca, of course. But I swear, if I’d been in real danger I’d be dead by now. What kind of person arrives an _hour_ after receiving a desperate call from their favourite partner in crime?”

“I don't do crimes,” Paul responded absentmindedly.

He was already planning on how to contact the spirit again.

“That’s all he's got to answer. I'll tell you it's actually a crime to take so much time. It's also a crime to not listen to me ... Angel! I'm talking to you!”

“What did the person in the mirror look like?” Paul ignored him.

“A woman. Long brown hair. Dark eyes. Plump lips.”

“Plump lips?”

“Yeah. Just like yours,” John said, shrugging from his spot on the floor.

“Okay,” Paul nodded. “What else? What was she wearing?”

“I don't know. Only saw her face. She was right next to me. Hard to pay attention when a ghost decides to pay you a visit.”

Paul hummed and left the room. John didn’t try to stop him.

The mirror was right there, hanging on the wall. Paul stared at his own reflection for five minutes. Apart from his own body, the frame was desperately empty. He tried to reach out to the woman's spirit, conjuring the mental image he'd built of her in his head, but all his attempts failed.

In the end, he sighed for what already seemed the hundredth time of the day and went back in the living room. John had picked up his phone again. Paul sat next to him on the carpet, carefully folding his wings so he wouldn’t touch him.

“So?” John asked, not looking away from his game. “She didn’t show up for you, did she?”

Paul shook his head.

“Here,” John said, shoving the phone into his hands. “You can try if you want. Don't worry, she'll come back sooner or later.”

“Do you really think so?” Paul asked.

It was not his habit to seek reassurance, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit upset about his sudden inability to spot a spirit that even _John_ had seen.

John patted him on the back. As Paul’s wings were pretty much taking all the space, he had to settle for the only free space remaining – just under the Angel's neck. As awkward as it was, the gesture made Paul feel better and he noted it absentmindedly. _It's good to touch_. This must have been another human thing. These strange creatures were always controlled by their bodies.

“You’ve got to teach me how to play, though,” Paul said with a little smile.

“Oh, right. You Angels can't be bothered with new technologies,” John smirked.

“Not true. We've all got phones. It's a gesture we made for Dullahans, you know – since you use phones all the time, and we don't. We only use these things to communicate with _you_ ,” Paul began explaining, but John grabbed his hands and moved them so he held the phone properly.

“I know all that,” he shushed him. “For now, just play.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying it every chapter but I hope you're all well and that you're having a good day/night <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul's worried. I don't have a better summary than that, sorry <3

It didn’t take long for Paul to top John's highest score on the game. Visibly focused, eyes never blinking once and thumbs hovering over the screen, Paul relentlessly tapped on the “play again” button every time he finished a level.

When he'd completed every level John struggled with, plus the extra ones his own victories had unlocked, he looked at John with an eager look, as if finally remembering the other was there.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now,” John chuckled, “I won’t wonder anymore why Angels don’t use their phones. It's too easy for your lot to win human games. You’ve finished this one in less than an hour!”

“Oh.”

Paul did his best to hide his disappointment, but perhaps he wasn’t utterly perfect after all because John sensed it anyway.

“I’ve got plenty of other games on my phone, Macca. Plenty of levels I’m stuck on.”

“Good,” Paul smiled, finally giving John his phone back.

At that moment, a loud thud could be heard upstairs. They exchanged a look.

“Do you think it could be ...” John began tentatively.

Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I still can't feel anything. Let's go and check, okay?”

They found the source of the noise on the second floor. One of the old windows had opened itself and the wind had made a door close violently. Paul looked rather disappointed once more but John dragged him back to the living room and entertained him with little, silly stories he claimed had happened to him on the road until the Angel became cheerful again. They spent the rest of the day together, chatting and playing some mobile games. All the while, they were also waiting for the spirit to show itself again.

The next morning, John came downstairs with a shaken face, saying he thought he'd seen something but couldn’t be sure. The same woman had appeared, directly this time, just in front of the bathroom window. John had only seen her from the corner of his eye, and when'd he turned she was already gone.

“It’s no use, Macca!” John shouted as Paul rushed upstairs.

Paul was forced to admit the Dullahan was right when he came back, wings hanging loose.

“I feel like everything’s happening without me and I’m left out,” he said, voice sadder than intended.

“Oh, Angel.”

John came closer and hugged him. After stiffening for a handful of seconds, Paul actually relaxed. He tried to analyse the comfort the gesture was giving him, warm heat spreading through his body. He leaned into the touch, relishing the way his head fit perfectly on John's shoulder.

John let him go and looked at him, searching his face.

“You okay?” he asked.

“That was a nice first hug,” Paul hummed contently.

He didn’t know _what_ human bodies did when they received a hug, but the impact was certainly stronger than he'd expected it to be. Paul felt as if nothing could stop him and his difficulties spotting that spirit had become a mere setback.

“You’re welcome,” John drawled. He began to turn around before stopping dead in his track. “Wait. What do you mean by 'first hug'? Do you mean with me … or generally speaking?”

“The latter.”

The look of horror that spread on John's face made Paul giggle.

Later that evening, however, Paul's exhilaration seemed to subside. As it was cold, they had decided to light a fire. It cracked happily in front of them. Paul seemed engrossed by the sight; yellow, orange and green flames licking the wood (the green being courtesy of John, who'd magically lit the fire).

“What if nothing happens?” Paul suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know. What if I can't find the spirit and communicate with them tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that? What if I fail?”

“They’ll sent another team to take care of it,” John shrugged. “It never happened to you before?”

Paul shook his head.

“It did to me,” John said, glancing at Paul before looking back at the fire. “Nothing will happen to you. They won’t even scold you – I’ll make sure of that if it's what you're dreading.”

“I don't care about that. We are Angels, Angels are always fair. What I don't like is ... failing. I should tell them I’m useless right now instead of stalling.”

“You're not useless,” John said with a fierce tone. “You 've done ... what? Hundreds of missions like this one? Don't tell me it's nothing.”

“Right,” Paul agreed but his face remained grim.

“Besides, why can't you just enjoy the holidays? You Angels never get holidays, it must be deadly.”

“We don't get tired. We don't need holid-” Paul tried to object, but John cut him off.

“You’re stuck in this house for the remaining of the time allowed for our mission- thirteen days. Why can't you just enjoy yourself while you're here?”

John's enthusiasm made Paul smile against his will.

“I don't really know how to do that,” Paul finally answered when John turned towards him, highbrows raised in a silent question.

John’s smile became almost threatening.

“Oh, don't you worry. I'll teach you.”


	9. John's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John thinks about Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter today <3

Every morning, when John woke up, he threw on some clothes and hurried downstairs, only to find Paul in the living room, standing in front of the windows and watching the landscape. In these moments, Paul was absolutely still, as if he’d become a statue, and with his gracious pose and wide wings he truly resembled a work of art. Not that John told him so, no; instead he would hungrily take in that sight until Paul sensed his presence and turned to him, greeting him in his friendly and quiet way.

Every meal they took together. Paul didn’t really need to eat, or at least not as much as John, but he always kept him company. He also ended up cooking for the both of them when he realised John's skills only included overcooking rice and burning eggs.

In the afternoons and evenings they'd still be together, speaking or taking care of John's horse or playing a game, or even staying in companionable silence. Paul would be reading a book and John would just be lying there near him, staring at the ceiling. Now and then, Paul would lift his head from his book and exclaim “I still don't understand these people, I’ll never do” and John would take the matter into his hands. He’d make Paul read the segment out loud and then explain to him why these silly humans did this or that.

During the day, they giggled and laughed and spoke and had heated discussions and threw the other quick glances, whether shared or unseen. John wished it would last forever.

Being with Paul was John's delight. It was even better that he had envisioned it when he'd first been told by the Council that he and his colleague were to spend two weeks together to free a spirit from a haunted house.

John's speciality as a Dullahan usually was to take care of curses and hexes. He'd had his friend Ringo, who was also his superior at the Council, throw in a word for him to be sure he'd be given the case. Now he owed Ringo one, but that would only be _one_ more. Besides, it was worth it because he was _really_ enjoying his time with Paul.

In a couple of days, the Angel had become quite passionate about mobile games and was now considering buying a better phone for himself to be able to still play when their time at the mansion was over.

Speaking of which, the concept of holidays was still something the Angel had some difficulty to grasp, and especially to not feel guilty about. A feeling he'd never been experienced before. Part of John – the sadistic one, the one he tried to repress – found it highly enjoyable to watch the Angel struggle to come to terms with all these new feelings. _Paul’s almost a fallen Angel now_ was a thought that crossed his head a few times.

But Paul wasn’t flawed. He could never be, whatever the Council would say if they knew he'd spent the last night using all John’s phone batteries to complete tasks in a game he'd just discovered. To John, Paul was perfect. He'd had plenty of time during the last few days to make sure of it. Paul wasn’t any Angel and that was what was great about him. And sure, John knew he wasn’t half as good as him, but that was what comparing a Dullahan to an Angel implied.

So. Paul was perfect, and it was not because he was an Angel. He was perfect, except for one thing, that John experienced again on a pale morning, ten days after the beginning of their mission (or holidays, depending on which point of view one adopted).

John was having a dream where he was playing in a band with Paul, Ringo and another skinny lad with a brown mop top. They were doing a gig in front of a cheering crowd when a loud thud interrupted John just as he was about to sing. In his dream, he looked around but saw nothing, until someone shook his shoulder. John turned around and was surprised to face two Pauls. There was the one holding a bass, who was bandmate, and there was another Paul, looking ecstatic. John then felt as if his eyes, which he was sure were already open, opening once more, and then his surroundings changed. The only thing left from his dream was the second Paul, the overexcited one.

“John, I did it! I unlocked the final level of the game! I thought you'd want us to do it together.”

John groaned.

“God, Macca, you've done it again.”

“Don't swear,” Paul admonished him automatically, still bouncing on his feet in front of him.

John brought a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s it to you if I swear? You're much more like a human than an Angel right now.”

John didn’t need to see it to picture Paul’s bewildered face in the following silence.

“Waking up their parents at an ungodly hour of the morning is something five year-olds do,” he then explained.

“You’re not my father!” Paul protested, apparently offended by the idea.

“Yeah, but ya still woke me up, son. I need sleep. We went to bed at one o’clock. I’m tired.”

Just as if to prove his point, John yawned.

“Sorry,” Paul said. “But ... Do you always need sleep?”

“Why?” John asked back, uncovering his eyes.

“I thought you only slept because you liked to. You know, like Angels could. You know.”

“No, I don't,” John said. He sat up in his bed and pat the covers. “Sit down and tell me.”

“Well, Angels don't need to sleep, but they can when they want. The only time when we _need_ to is when we've exhausted our human body. But even then, we could just wait, it's just faster to sleep for a few hours. Four are my maximum, actually.”

John chuckled at the revelation.

“No doubt you think I’m lazy. Which I am, but not that much. I'd say Dullahans are like humans. Eight hours of sleep every night, 's what we need.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul said, guilt painting on his face.

“Don’t be. It's not your fault the Council doesn’t teach you anything. I don't really know much about Angels either.”

“That’s a shame,” Paul said.

They remained silent for a while, staring at the dust floating in the air, illuminated by the morning sunrays.

“You Dullahans are much more like humans than we are,” Paul finally broke the silence. “What are the things that make you special, then?”

“Our powers. Our ability to take off our head and forget it on a bedside table in the morning,” John joked before thinking about it further. “We live longer, though not eternally as you do. We are cursed forever and no one can undo it. We can communicate directly with animals, any animal. We are addicted to music.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Mmh. Paul, can I touch your wings?” John asked out of the blue.

As soon as the question left his lips, John knew he'd crossed a line. Paul's face was more shocked than ever before, even though John spent his days trying to shock him. Paul seemed to engage into an inner debate before he nodded hesitantly and brought his right wing closer to John.

The Dullahan extended a hand before slowly making contact with the white, pale feathers.

“They’re so soft,” he murmured, petting the wing over and over again.

He was so engrossed by what he was living than he only thought of checking on Paul a couple of seconds later. But he shouldn’t have worried. Paul's unsure expression had been replaced with something akin to contentment.

“It feels good,” Paul said when their eyes crossed.

“You’re like a cat, aren’t you?” John chuckled.

“I don't know. No one's ever touched my wings like that,” the other answered very seriously.

“Why is it forbidden?” John asked, curious.

“Forbidden? It's not forbidden ... There’s just no reason to do it. Why would anyone touch my wings?”

John opened his hand wide and let it slide from Paul's shoulder, where the feathers began to appear, to the end of his wing. It elicited the tiniest shiver in the Angel.

“Because it feels good,” John smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just skip the summary? Yes. If you prefer to read these chapters with a summary, just tell me and I'll put more effort into it <3 I'm lazy but good-willed.

“Are you sure of what you saw?” Paul insisted.

“Quite. She was right in front of me eyes, ol' dress floating around her and all,” John said.

“And she pointed to _this_ wall?”

John nodded. “That’s right.”

Paul examined the wall carefully. It was made of bricks. There wasn’t anything special about it; it looked just like any wall in an attic.

“Why were you here of all places anyway?” Paul asked, hands hovering around the wall as if he wasn’t sure of what his next move would be.

John looked away and Paul gently repeated his name.

“John. I've rushed up three flights of stairs for you. If I were human, I think that'd mean you owe me an explanation.”

“Oh, the wicked Angel. Twisting his newly acquired human knowledge,” John snarled.

“John.”

“Okay,” the Dullahan relented. “It occurred to me there had to be a treasure of some sort in the attic. So I had to check. All attics have their lot of hidden things, you know. They're the perfect place to do that.”

Paul shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Which is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Paul’s hands came closer to the wall, fingertips almost brushing it, but he didn’t close the gap. He frowned and even pulled his hands back a bit.

“Did you?” he said in a small voice.

“What?”

“Find it. The treasure you were looking for.”

“In the case of this attic, the hidden treasure was a wooden box filled with photos and love letters from the 1920s.”

“Okay,” Paul said, not moving an inch, his hands still half extended towards the wall.

“Macca. Why don't you just do it – and then whatever the result is, we can go back downstairs and chill!”

“I ...,” the Angel began, and as he hesitated John finally recognized the emotion on his face. It was insecurity.

_Paul doesn’t trust himself anymore. Paul has lost his confidence. Seems I’m a monster after all. I wish I hadn’t said anything about the attic,_ John thought.

“What if I’ve lost my powers as an Angel? What if I’m a weight for everyone? You should work with someone knowing how to do their job, not with me.”

John instinctively reached out to touch Paul. At the same time, however, the Angel turned away from him and John found himself facing his wings. Hesitantly, almost as much as Paul had been when he faced the wall, he lifted his hand and placed it on top of his right wing.

“Paul. You didn’t fail. You're wonderful. You're an Angel. You're my friend, too.”

“You’re sweet,” Paul sniffed, and John damn hoped he wasn’t crying because the last thing he wished was to deal with angel tears.

“Now, it's the first time someone calls me that. You certainly know how to make me act better than I am,” he explained, trying to sound ironic and failing gloriously.

“Then ... Then being here wasn’t a waste,” Paul said, much to John's surprise.

Without waiting any more, the Angel put his hands against the wall. John could hear him breathe and he didn’t move, the hand that had been stroking the Angel's wing stilling there, still buried in the soft feathers.

“Nothing,” Paul shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” John said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Paul immediately replied with his calm voice.

John needed to distract him. He looked around the attic, his eyes falling on dozens of old boxes filled with items from the past and dust. Then, he got an idea and smiled. _That_ was a gift he could give Paul.

“You ever ridden a horse?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You ever ridden a _Dullahan's_ horse?”

The Angel turned to him, surprised.

“Do you really mean you'd allow me to ...”

“You let me touch your wings, right? Besides, I trust you.”

They locked eyes, smiles mirroring one another, and hurried downstairs.


	11. John's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is So Tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited about this that I don't know how to announce it, but rainbow_jack12 drew some amazing art for this fic, you can find it [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/CF-E5qyM7Se/?igshid=7omf5ah22eu6)!! It's beautiful-stunning-omg and I love it so much, thank you again <3

During the time they spent outside, Paul was all smiles and giggles. John loved to see him like this. Together they took care of Henry (that was the name of the horse). Henry even allowed them to climb on his back together and took them from one end of the pretty meadow, in front of the mansion, to the other. When it became clear their conjoined weight was beginning to tire the horse out, they led him back to his stables and groomed his coat.

As soon as they were back indoors, though, Paul became even graver than before. He was all wistfulness and every single piece of nonsense John could think of saying failed to lift his spirits. After a while, a somewhat grim silence settled in the room. John observed Paul discreetly. The Angel was sat on the floor, back to the couch, and busied himself with preening himself. _As if they needed any grooming,_ John thought absentmindedly. He yawned. The silence wasn’t helping his tremendous sleepiness. It seemed all the mornings he'd spent with Paul instead of sleeping until noon, as usually was his habit, were finally taking their toll.

“Hey Paul, do you care if I take a quick nap?” he asked drowsily, eyes closing shut despite all his efforts.

He heard clothes shuffling next to him and figured Paul was now facing him.

“Oh, John. I'm so sorry, I hadn’t realised you were tired,” Paul said.

John wanted to reply it wasn’t Paul's job to notice that sort of things, but before he could slur the words he felt himself being picked up.

“What are ya doin’?” he mumbled.

“Just taking you upstairs. You'll be more comfortable in your bed.”

Surely John would never have allowed anyone to carry him bridal style had he been fully awake. But he was tired. And it was _Paul_. So he merely clung onto the Angel's shirt and huffed.

Soon enough, Paul laid him down gently on his bed. He even arranged the pillows under his head. John let out a contented sigh and rolled on his side. Even with his eyes closed, however, he noticed Paul didn’t leave his room. Rather, he stayed in front of the bed, squirming awkwardly.

“Yes?” John asked without bothering to open his eyes.

“Could ... Could I stay while you sleep? I could force myself to sleep too. You know. I just don’t want to stay alone with my thoughts.”

John shuffled in the bed as an answer. Then he patted the space he'd just freed next to him.

“Come here,” he drawled.

Paul's relief was evident as he quickly joined John in the bed, lying on his side, face towards John so that his wings were not in the Dullahan’s face.

“I’ll wake up in about an hour and I’ll see if you’re awake then,” he told John.

John wanted to answer, but slumber overtook him.

When John awoke, he didn’t move right away. At first, he enjoyed lying there, feeling much rested and enjoyed the sound of a deep, even breathing in his ear ... in his ear?

_Paul_.

John's eyes opened at once and were graced with the sight of a sleeping Paul. The Angel looked perfectly relaxed, but most of all he was stunning. John let a couple of minutes pass only staring at his eyelashes that projected shadows on his cheeks. How long had he been asleep? Had an hour passed already, had Paul woken to find John still fast asleep, or had John only slept ten minutes?

John had to refrain himself from touching Paul. A strand of hair had fallen in front of his eyes and John was dying to pull it out of the way. He figured he didn’t have the right to. Besides, what if it woke Paul up? He looked so peaceful; John could have stared at him all day. A smile crept on his face as he remembered how Paul had seemed tense just before, brows slightly furrowed in worry and lips squeezed a bit too tight. Then his smile fell as soon as it had come, because he remembered why Paul was worried. Paul thought he was a bad Angel because he couldn’t get the job done. That job they'd both been assigned. And John knew it was his fault.

_I have no right to stay here and just stare idly at his face hoping things will sort themselves out,_ he thought.

He got up as quietly as he could and tiptoed out of the room.

He was going to take care of the problem himself. Even though he had no idea how.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul wakes up all alone.

Paul's dreams as he slept were made of white. Something that one could only describe as _white_ wind surrounded him and pushed him this way or that way as he walked in an empty, white land, his feet not even touching the ground.

It faintly reminded him of when he was a spirit and lived somewhere else. Life had been blissful then, but it hadn’t been _life_. It had been something else and Paul, even as he slept, was no longer able to name it properly because he was not that Angel anymore.

He was someone else, just as he'd changed of place. Because even Angels tended to lose their pure, direct connection with Perfection when they were given a human body.

They still were creatures of good, sure.

But as time went by, they began to experience human things, their surroundings getting onto them. Grief, regret, guilt, envy even. Doubt and self-doubt.

Paul had heard other Angels talk about it. He'd just had never assumed he would experience it himself. Until then, his humanly life had been as faultless as his disincarnated one. Perfect.

These thoughts, clearer than ever, swirled in his head as he slept. Then the dream was over, and Paul lost that lucidity because he was closer to humans than he'd ever been. He opened his eyes to an empty bed.

“John?” he mumbled.

He sat up and looked around. John wasn’t there. The sheets fell from his shoulders and he shivered. He wished John were here. Paul didn’t know what magical power Dullahans possessed in their fingertips, but they definitely had something. Or was it just John? Paul had no mean of comparison, but he knew every time John placed a hand on his back or touched him, whatever the part of his body was, he instantly felt warmer.

He wrapped his wings around his human body and called for John in the corridor, lightly at first and then louder and louder, not understanding why the Dullahan wouldn’t answer him.

He looked outside, just in case John had gone out. The sun shone brightly behind the clouds, spreading a dark green colour over the meadow. It then occurred to him that John might have gone to check on Henry. The Dullahan shared a special bond with his horse – Paul had witnessed it once more only that morning.

If so, it meant Paul was alone in the house ... Maybe it was the perfect time to try again. John had always been next to him the other times he'd tried to feel something. Maybe the spirit that haunted the mansion would reveal herself more easily to an alone person. Maybe all Paul needed to do was try again.

With that thought in mind, he made his way towards the last place where John had claimed to have seen the ghost of that whimsical lady. The attic. The air seemed to become even colder as Paul climbed the stairs. He felt goose bumps on his human skin and tightened the embrace of his wings as much he could.

He forcefully opened the attic door, only to freeze on the threshold.

John was there, head standing on an empty box. Hid headless body was hunched over a brick and herbs Paul recognized instantly. _Hemlock. Lilies. Wisteria._

John was doing some dark magic, and it made Paul want to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow's my worst day of the week so I'm not sure I'll be able to update. But if so I'll be back on Friday! Thank you for reading this fic <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to edit this as best I could but I'm so tired that my eyes hurt. I blame uni for all the weird sentences that might have escaped my non-existent attention.
> 
> Anyway, here are some answers (finally)!

Paul must have screamed instead of just wanting to, because John’s eyes shot up. Paul could see them widen in panic. The Dullahan’s first move was to grab his head on the box and put it back in place. He then stood up and took a step towards Paul.

“Angel ... Macca ... Paul. This is not what you think,” he said hurriedly.

But Paul didn’t know what to think. Several options swirled relentlessly in his head and every single one of them made him feel like screaming again. Was... Was John trying to curse someone he held a grudge against? He knew Dullahans had that power. But why would he do this now?

Paul’s eyes travelled from the brick on the floor, from which smoke was spiralling, to John's face, and then to the brick again.

Somehow ... Had Paul been wrong– had he been deceived all along– was John not to be trusted?

Maybe John was the one who had blocked Paul's ability to communicate with the ghost. Maybe John wanted to hurt Paul for some reason only known to himself. Or worse, maybe Paul was only a means to John, maybe Paul's existence was utterly indifferent to John.

“This is not what you think,” John tried again, raising his hands as if in surrender.

That simple gesture made Paul jump.

“Cancel the curse!” he ordered. “Now!”

John didn’t even throw a glance towards what he'd focused all his attention on seconds before.

“I hadn’t even begun.”

Paul sighed in relief. At least that was something. Slowly, he stepped in the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it, partly for the support and partly to prevent the Dullahan from going anywhere.

“Explain yourself.”

His voice was commanding, if slightly shaking. Paul had done that before. He'd caught Dullahans doing evil magic in the past, he'd even been deceived by some he was supposed to work with. The only thing that made this time stand out was that he _cared_.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone,” John pleaded.

It didn’t sound like he was lying. But Paul knew he himself was naive. He knew he couldn’t always trust his own impressions. Still, John seemed so miserable that Paul couldn’t help but use a gentler tone.

“John. You were about to curse someone, or something among these lines. You're not going to pretend it's not dark magic, are you?”

John shifted his weight and looked away.

“T’was a minor curse,” he finally mumbled. “A mere illusion.”

“Why would you need to conjure up an illusion?” Paul encouraged him.

“Listen, I ...” John began before shrugging. “I can't tell you that without telling you everything.”

Paul merely cocked an eyebrow and waited. John turned around and made his way to the dormer window on the other side of the attic. Several boxes nearly hid him from Paul’s sight. The window creaked open. With slow movements, John rested his elbows on the sill and began to talk.

But his voice was low and muffled by the fact he was facing away. Paul wanted to come up to him, but he still was reluctant to abandon the door – what if it was all a plan John had made up to escape?

The bits Paul gathered from John's story were confusing, too, to the point that Paul wasn’t sure if he hadn’t understood everything wrong. And when John finally fell silent, Paul didn’t know what to think any more than when he'd discovered the Dullahan at first.

“John, come back here, I can't see you ...” he asked.

When John didn’t move, Paul tried, “There never was a ghost in here?”

“No. I lodged the complaint myself. Pretended I was the old man who owns the house and said I’d seen a spirit. T'was easy.”

“But where is he, that old man?”

“On holidays with the rest of his family. They only live here three months a year.”

“And you wanted us to team on that non-existent case.”

John grumbled his approval.

“And now you were just trying to create an illusion to make me think I was talking to a spirit.”

“Mmh.”

“You know this wasn’t going to work, didn’t you?”

“I had to _try_ , Macca! God, you were ... You were unhappy because of me! I had to make it up to you.”

“Maybe you should have thought about it before lying to everyone,” Paul said in earnest.

Maybe saying that was too honest. Maybe that thought was too rational, too pondered. It was a reproach Angels often got from Dullahans. Seeing as John became red in the head, Paul gathered that was the case.

“I wanted– I needed– you don’t understand. Maybe I was wrong all along. Forget it,” John said with a dismissive wave of the hands.

“But I want to understand,” Paul said as he stood upright. “You haven’t told me _why_ you've done all this in the first place.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” John warned him.

“I still want to hear it.”

Paul silently braced himself for what was to come. He truly wished John wasn’t acting for unfair motives, but he couldn’t think of any reasonable one. If only the Dullahan had a defendable reason to justify his actions, Paul would be satisfied. He'd accept pretty much anything if that meant John wasn’t evil, if that meant John hadn’t been mindlessly using him during all the time they'd spent together.

He wasn’t prepared to hear what John said, however. Nothing in the world could have prepared him.

“I’m in love with you.”


	14. Chapter 14

“I’m in love with you.”

Paul stood there, stunned.

“I wanted to spend some time with you. To make sure my feelings were real and to see if you might love me back,” John went on.

He paused and Paul took it as his opportunity to speak.

“John, I'm sorry, I ...” he began, but at the same time John said, “I think you do,” and Paul could do nothing but stand with his mouth agape.

“I’m sorry?” he repeated.

“I think you love me back,” John muttered, voice akin to a whisper this time.

Even from the other side of the attic, Paul could spot a strange mixture of confidence, determination and insecurity on John’s face. He couldn’t help it and had to move closer to the Dullahan. After all, it was his duty as an Angel, right? Angels take care of those who hurt, and John was about to hurt. Because of Paul himself.

“John, I'm sorry, I can't love you back,” Paul apologized, stopping a mere foot away from John and taking his hand in his own.

“Of course you can.”

“I’m- I'm an Angel, John,” Paul said, suddenly overcome by a feeling of desperation. “I can't love anyone back.”

“Funny, that. I thought Angel’s first characteristic was their _love_ ,” John sniggered, although Paul knew it was just a facade. He could feel it, even as he tried to shut himself down from all these perceptions assailing him.

Paul didn’t want John to be hurt; that's why he didn’t let go his hand.

“It’s not the same. It's not the kind of love you want. It's a love anyone can pretend to.”

“Yes, yes, I know. A universal love enclosing all living beings, even those damn trolls. You care about them because they’re alive, not because of their personality. But it's not the beating heart you like in me, do you? You like more than that.”

“Oh.”

Paul let go of John's hand and took a step back. His mind was racing and he was aware of his human body reacting in a way he couldn’t control – he felt himself blushing. He wrapped his wings around his body once more in an attempt to shield himself.

He had to admit it. He cared about John because John _was_ John. John was special to him. John had that gift that meant he could change Paul's mood in a second. John made Paul happy, annoyed, entertained, surprised. John made him laugh. John made him feel warm.

Things wouldn’t have felt the same at all if it hadn’t been John who was standing in front of him right now.

Paul would have missed him.

Was that what humans called love, then?

“Macca, please, talk to me,” John urged him. “You’ve been frozen for five minutes at least.”

“It's because I’m cold ... when you're not holding me,” Paul blurted out.

“That’s sappy, even for an Angel like you,” John chuckled, but his voice was high-pitched and Paul could spot his relief at once.

John wasted no time in wrapping Paul into a hug, causing him to relax into it immediately. In fact his whole body felt limp as he leaned into the touch.

“Do you think you could love me, then? I won't ask anymore if you say no,” John whispered in his ear.

Paul smiled. Uncertainty filled him, but he felt so good at the moment, better than he'd ever been. Before John happened, things had been _neutral_ more than anything. Quiet and peaceful, but neither particularly happy nor unhappy. With John came a lot of trouble, but it was as if life had a _taste_ now.

“I think I can try.”

John held him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that too much fluff for you? See you tomorrow <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, and then some more.

They left the attic about ten minutes later. Paul climbed down the stairs first; John followed. They silently headed to the living room and sat on the couch, never uttering a word. They were next to one another, just like they had been millions of times these past days.

Suddenly, though, nothing felt the same.

In fact, Paul felt himself grow uneasy. He fidgeted with his right wing, turning slightly away from John.

“Angel, you need to talk to me. I can't guess what's going on in that little head of yours,” John said.

Paul could tell the other was observing him carefully.

“Why do you keep walling me by my people's name?” he asked.

Focusing on a detail when the rest proved itself overwhelming had always been one of Paul's best strategies. It usually helped him see clearer in the whole scheme; and if not, it still diverted his interlocutor's attention.

“Because it's also a pet name,” John smiled.

Paul turned to face him instantly. In the midst of his own blush, he saw that John sported the biggest grin Paul had ever seen on his face. John's dark eyes shone with a light even brighter than before.

John seemed happy, and it brought Paul back to his own doubts. He may have successfully deflected John's attention, but he couldn’t ignore his own qualms. If anything, they bothered him more and more, until–

“But what if I find out I can't love you?”

John's smile faltered a bit, making Paul feel a pang of remorse in his chest. Hurting John was hurtful to him too, but it had to be done now.

“Well, I know it's a feeling you can't command ...” John began.

Paul shook his head and John stopped short to let him talk.

“I don't mean it in that way. I mean, you know.”

“I don't.”

“Have you ever seen an angel in love?” Paul asked him.

John shook his head.

“Neither have I,” Paul said with the smallest voice. “John, I like you a lot, you know I do, but l'm not sure it will be enough.”

Paul stopped for a second, breathed in and added, “If Angels can't fall in love ...”

“If Angels can't fall in love, you'll still like me a lot, right?” John interrupted.

“Yes, but it's not what you want.”

“I’ll still be happy if you allow me to keep loving you. I'd rather you loved me back, but I know- I know I’m not worthy of you love anyway, so ...”

“You can't be thinking that,” Paul said in horror. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met!”

“Interesting’s usually the word you use when you don’t like someone that much.”

“What should I have said then?”

“That I'm hot and sexy?”

Paul shook his head. “I don't see that sort of things. Among Angels, _interesting_ is the highest praise because we do the same things for so long that everything looks the same after a while. But I’m sure you're ... hot and sexy as well.”

“Oh, okay,” John said, seemingly deep in thoughts. “Thank you, then.”

“You do a lot of things Angels wouldn’t think of, though,” John added after a while.

“Mmh. I guess I’m not exactly what I appear to be.”

Paul leaned his head against John's shoulder. This was also a gesture he'd grown accustomed too, but didn’t it feel different now that John had admitted his feelings towards Paul? Didn’t it make his own heart confused? Paul tried to shut his worry for once.

“Do you ... want to play with your phone for a bit?” he asked. “I could watch you play.”

John took out his phone and handed it to him with a smile.

“There you are, the only geek Angel in the universe. We'll take turns, but you can start.”

“I told you,” Paul smiled as he unlocked the screen, definitely relieved because John was teasing him again and it was something that usually didn’t stop for so long. “I’m not what I appear to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was high time I made the title of this fic appear in a chapter :) I'll post the final chapter tomorrow!


	16. John's POV

They enjoyed each other’s company so much that days went by without them noticing it. Before they had discussed half of the topics they wanted to share with the other, and before they had played half of the games on Paul's checklist – but both lists seemed to get longer instead of smaller every day, to be honest – they were collecting their stuff all around the house.

They were to leave the next morning. Paul was to take a taxi to town, John was to ride to the council. Neither of them were keen on that, even if they had agreed to meet there.

“You let me talk when we report to Ringo and Brian,” John instructed Paul. “I'll make up a good story, one that'll take their breath away.”

“If you make it too good, they won't believe it,” Paul retorted, all the while dusting the paintings in the living room.

Paul had decided to clean the place at the last moment. John couldn’t say he was thrilled, but a look from Paul had shushed him.

“These were holidays for us, right?” Paul had then explained. “I’ve watched humans. When they go on holidays, they clean everything before leaving.”

To that, John had answered that humans never went to a place that dirty to begin with. But, as he'd admitted millions of times, Paul’s eyes were very persuasive.

“I don't care if they believe it or not. The house isn't haunted, which means we’ve done our job,” John smirked.

“Dullahans are evil creatures,” Paul sighed, but he was smiling.

After a while, Paul declared they were done for the day. Night was slowly settling in. John threw himself on the couch and let out a contented groan.

“Cleaning isn’t a torture,” Paul chuckled softly as he sat very delicately on the arm of the couch – John lay sprawled on the rest of the couch.

“It is,” John said, glancing at Paul who, sat there, now towered over him.

Paul reached out and ran a hand through John's hair. It was the lightest touch but it still made John oddly contented and he had to refrain from purring like a cat.

“I don't know,” Paul mumbled, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

John wouldn’t have heard him if they hadn’t been so close in the silence of the room.

“What is it, Angel?” he asked.

That question seemed about to become a favourite of his. Paul really was a secretive being. He didn’t say much about what he truly felt, especially when something was bugging him. It was all about picking up hints and asking at the right moment. John didn’t know if he'd always be able to do it. He was no perfect Angel, but he'd try anyway.

“I was wondering how humans know they're in love,” Paul hummed.

“Oh.”

John's heart skipped a beat. Was this about to happen know? Was he meant to know? He himself was sure of what he felt towards Paul. He knew it was love, and stronger than ever before at that. But the Angel had no way of knowing, he had no means of comparison.

“I wish I knew. John, every time I think I might _not_ love you I feel like my heart is breaking and it's so painful, I’ve never felt anything like it. I'd hate it if I couldn’t love you back, but I still want to know. You know. And there's even worse, when you ...” Paul stopped and frowned at John’s beaming face. “What?” he asked, closer to exasperation than he'd ever been.

“These are really good signs, if you want my opinion,” John drawled.

“But it _hurts!_ ” Paul huffed.

John sat up and shuffled closer to Paul. “I know some test we could run. If I’m right, it'll be a lot more pleasant,” he suggested.

Paul nodded his head frantically. John reached for Paul's chin and tilted his head, trying to be as gentle as possible. He brought their lips together with agonizingly slow movements, allowing Paul to back out when he realized what was about to happen. But Paul didn’t go away. John's chapped lips met his midway. They were plump and soft. It felt like he was kissing an Angel and he chuckled when he realized actually he was. John peppered butterfly kisses on Paul's lips. He was very much willing to do that forever.

Paul's hand gripped his own out of nowhere and that's the gesture that brought him back to the present. Repressing a sigh, he pulled back and contemplated the Angel in front of him. Paul's face was flushed to the roots of his hair. It made him even more beautiful, in John's opinion. Paul opened his mouth to speak and John fidgeted with Paul's hand that he was still holding. What would he say?

“Why did you stop?” the Angel whimpered, eyes still half-closed. “Want me to hurt again?”

“So ... So you liked it?” John let out. His shoulders relaxed instantly. He hadn’t realized he'd been so tense.

“Mmh. It made my chest feel like it was about to explode. I also thought my heart was gonna stop. Does that mean I feel something for you?”

John wanted to answer him but couldn’t. Paul's parted lips combined to what he'd said were too much to handle and he kissed him again. He ran his free hand through Paul's hair. Paul kissed him back, making him gasp. It elicited a happy chuckle from the Angel and, feeling he couldn’t be left behind, John experimentally licked those plump lips. It was Paul's turn to gasp. Very pleased with himself, John kissed Paul again and again.

Both were out of breath when they finally parted.

“Human bodies really feel incredible things,” Paul panted.

“I love you,” John blurted out.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said it again, he thought as he watched Paul's eyes grow darker and a strange look appear on his face.

“I love you too,” Paul said before asking immediately afterwards, a worried look on his face, “Is this how I’m supposed to say it? That's the sentence, right?”

John nodded. He'd have spoken, but he wasn’t sure he could without making a fool of himself. He felt far too gloriously happy.

They kissed again, had to pause again once, twice. Paul ended in John’s lap somehow.

“Do you want to be my partner at the Council? We could do all our missions together if you wanted,” John asked at some point, resting his forehead against Paul's.

“I’d love that,” Paul simply answered. “I never want to go anywhere without you again.”

John ran his hands up and down Paul's silky wings. He knew he was grinning like an idiot in love, but he didn’t care anymore. Paul was not what he appeared to be; he was much more than an Angel among others. And, in return, John felt that Paul saw in him much more than what he appeared to be as a Dullahan too. _We belong together, because we’re much better people together than apart._

John half had in mind to crack a joke, but Paul's mouth met his again, soft and yet demanding. John tried to give him everything he could ask for.

He'd have pretty much forever to tease Paul anyway. Kissing him was much more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading until the end. I hope you liked the ending :) I definitely liked writing it!
> 
> If you wanna check out my tumblr for whatever reason or talk or anything, [here it is](https://measuredoutinyears.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> I hope you're well and having a good day or night <3


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